


Somebody Else

by RealName



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Emotional Infidelity, Feminization, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Married Louis, Original Character(s), Pining, Pole Dancing, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Stripper Harry, Unhappy marriage, strip club au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealName/pseuds/RealName
Summary: A filter of smoke began to line the floor of the stage. When the lights rose again, they revealed the dark outline of a man standing in the middle, hand resting on the pole, back turned to the audience. Slow, soft-rock began to filter through the speakers. It was a David Bowie song, Louis recognised it immediately from old tapes his mother used to play in the car. Dreamy. Ethereal. Feminine. Perfectly suited. The dancer on stage turned to face the audience, each movement precise and calculated, matching the tempo of the music. His body was composed of long limbs, pulled into perfect control, dressed in tight leather trousers that looked ready to burst at the seams under the pressure of strong thighs. A burgundy fur coat was the only thing covering his bare chest. His lips were bright red. ---On the night of Louis' Bachelor Party, he runs into his childhood best friend, Harry Styles. Harry also happens to be the stripper.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: First thing's first, I have to be honest and tell you that there is really not much point to this fic. I started writing it because I wanted more Stripper!Harry, so it's existence is entirely self-indulgent. Basically, Louis is married and falls for a stripper, who also happens to be his childhood best friend. There are elements of emotional infidelity and cheating, so if that makes you feel uncomfortable, I would give this one a miss. Title is taken from the song 'Somebody Else' by 1975.

 

[(Also, the David Bowie song playing during Harry's first dance is 'Lady Grinning Soul', in case you're interested.)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fHoMw8tCzo)

 

Somebody Else

 

 _'I don't want your body_  
But I hate to think about you with somebody else  
Our love has gone cold  
You're intertwining your soul with somebody else'

_\- Somebody Else- The 1975 -_

 

-*-

 

 

“Louis, have you packed all your things in the car?”

“Just one more box.”

Louis picked up the cardboard box from his bedroom floor and carried it downstairs, placing it carefully into the boot of his mother's old, beat up Volkswagen. Somewhere in the vicinity of the house, he could hear his sisters arguing. Louis looked up with pale, blue eyes into the window of his old room and a wave of sadness rushed over him as he realised he would never again call this house 'home', even though he knew that in his heart it always would be.

At that moment, Louis' mum walked out of the front door, looking more than a little stressed as she raked her hands back through her brown hair. Even at fifteen years old, Louis knew that his mum was nervous about making such a big move, but the job she'd been offered in Doncaster paid twice as much as her current one and she couldn't afford to turn it down. His sisters had been cold towards her when she'd announced the move, freezing her out and making her feel as guilty as possible, which is why Louis had decided that he would make this transition as easy as possible for her; even though inside, he felt like crying.

All Louis' friends were in Cheshire, his school was in Cheshire, his _life_ was in Cheshire.

 _Harry was in Cheshire_ .

Louis asked his mum for the time.

“10:00 a.m.” she replied, “almost time to leave.”

Louis bit his lip and cast his eyes down the street, but he couldn't see any signs of his best friend. Harry had told Louis that he'd definitely be there first thing in the morning to say goodbye, so where was he? Just as Louis was beginning to worry that he wasn't going to show up, he saw a small figure round the corner at the end of the street, dressed in baggy clothes and worn trainers, making his way towards Louis.

Louis smiled, relief washing away any fears that Harry wasn't going to make it. When Harry finally reached Louis, he stopped and they both stared at each other at the end of the driveway, shuffling awkwardly as thick emotions hung in the air between them. It had finally arrived. The day they'd been dreading for months. Moving day.

“Hey,” Harry said, chubby cheeks red with exertion, “I thought I was going to be late.”

“You _are_ late,” Louis smirked.

“Oh, that's 'cause I wanted to bring you these.” Harry held out a box, which he'd been clutching in his hands. Louis took it and peeked inside, then looked back up. Harry bit his lip and smiled, “They're cookies. Thought you might be hungry on the drive. I helped my mum make them.”

Louis peered at Harry for a long moment, then closed the lid, feeling a heaviness in his heart. Harry was the best friend ever.

“Thank you.”

Harry beamed, “No problem.”

Silence fell between them. It felt tense, Louis noted, like neither of them knew what to say. There were no words, really. Neither of them wanted to say goodbye, yet it seemed clear that this meeting was exactly what this was. _Goodbye forever_.

“Hey, Lou?” Harry's voice was small as he kept his eyes to the ground, one arm clutching the other in a tight grip. “How much time do you have before you leave?”

“Not long,” Louis swallowed the lump in his throat, “Mum said we're leaving soon.”

“Do you think we'd have time to go sit in the clubhouse for a bit?” Harry asked. He looked small. Louis felt the two years age difference between them and wanted to comfort him.

“I'll ask.”

When Louis went into the house to ask his mum if it was all right, she gave him a sympathetic look and slowly nodded her head. Even though Louis wasn't trying to make her feel guilty, he knew by the look in her eyes that she did.

Harry and Louis both climbed the ladder into the small, wooden treehouse that Louis' dad had built for him years ago, before he'd decided that he didn't want a family and had walked out of Louis' life forever. When Harry had moved into the house down the street, they'd became instant friends and immediately turned the treehouse into their own secret clubhouse. Harry was the only person who could've managed to create happy memories in a place that, for the longest time, Louis couldn't even stand to look at.

Louis stared across at Harry as they both sat on the wooden floor, knees pulled to their chests, seeking comfort.

“Do you think we'll stay in touch?” Harry asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“Of course we will,” Louis said, defensively, like it was ridiculous Harry would even ask, “best friends forever, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, a tiny lift of his lips, “best friends forever.”

Silence again. Louis felt so tightly wound, he wanted to change the subject, to talk about anything apart from the fact that he was moving. Wanted to say something so funny and shocking that they both forgot to be sad. Finally, he opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to mind,

“I suppose now that we're moving I can finally tell you that Lottie has the biggest crush on you.”

Harry stared at Louis with wide eyes, blush staining his cheeks. Harry had always been so shy and Louis loved to get a reaction out of him. He'd been dying to tell him that piece of gossip for so long.

“She doesn't like me,” Harry huffed out a laugh and tried to hide his face, “she's nine years old.”

“Yeah, but she keeps a diary and writes 'Mrs Harry Styles' over it. I saw it.”

It was true. Louis had teased her for ages about it, until she went and told their mum on him. Jay had made Louis feel so guilty about it that he'd decided against blabbing to Harry the first chance he got. Now, he supposed it didn't really matter if Harry knew or not.

Harry laughed, eyes creasing up like two crescent moons, cheeks red and full like apples.

“Well, who knows,” Louis said, leaning back and examining his nails, philosophizing, “maybe she will be Mrs. Harry Styles in the future.”

Harry made a face, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Lou, don't be weird, she's your sister.”

“So?”

“She's nine!”

Louis tutted and rolled his eyes, “Obviously, I mean when you're both older. How do you know who you'll marry in the future?”

“I know it won't be your sister,” Harry said, looking a little huffy, “cut it out.”

Louis didn't know why he was being so persistent about this line of conversation, but something niggled inside him, urging him to keep poking at the sore spot until Harry yielded. He didn't know why he cared.

“Why? What's wrong with my sister?”

“Nothing.”

“So, why don't you want to marry her?”

“Because,” Harry said, cheeks flaming red now. He muttered something low under his breath, but Louis didn't hear him, so he asked him to repeat. Harry looked up with eyes like murky sea water and said, “I just don't, OK?”

Louis didn't have time to argue because at that moment he heard his mum's voice calling to him from across the garden.

“Louis, we have to go now sweetheart, say bye to Harry. We'll be waiting in the car.”

Louis and Harry both looked at each other. After a long moment, they both got to their feet, standing face-to-face in the middle of their clubhouse.

“Well, this is it,” Louis said, quietly, “I don't really know what to say.”

Silence.

When Harry spoke, there was a noticeable tremble in his voice.

“How about 'See you later'?”

Louis smiled, trying to stay strong, but when tears started forming in the waterlines of Harry's eyes, all attempts at playing it cool immediately disappeared. Louis quickly stepped forward and gathered the other boy in his arms.

Louis held Harry in the middle of their clubhouse; sun shining through the makeshift window, which had been indelicately cut into the wood. As they stood there, Louis suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that he'd never actually hugged Harry before. Everything about him felt soft; from the threaded fabric of his jumper to his little tummy, which was pressing against Louis' as they both stood with their arms wrapped tight around each other, cheek-to-cheek. Louis could feel Harry's back wracking with sobs. When he pulled back, the younger boy's cheeks were stained with tears.

Louis felt frozen as they looked at each other, limbs locked into position, as though his body knew what was about to happen before his brain caught up with it. Harry leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Louis' lips, small and cautious and gentle in its delivery. Louis closed his eyes, let it happen, then sighed when they pulled apart. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the words. It didn't feel strange, kissing Harry, it didn't register as something bad. It felt like a physical expression of just how much they were going to miss each other. Louis tightened his hold around Harry's body and held him closer, burying his face in his neck.

Later, when Louis had finally packed himself into the car, along with his sisters and the rest of his belongings, he couldn't hide the tears that were dripping down his cheeks. Beside him, Lottie rolled down her window and told Harry that she was going to miss him. Harry said he was going to miss her too, then looked at Louis.

When the car pulled out of the driveway, Louis forced himself not to turn and stare at Harry's retreating figure, growing smaller and smaller, before disappearing forever.

-*-

Louis laughed and downed another drink.

It was his fourth that night and he was ready for more, as much as he could get and everyone was there to make sure he drank his fill. This was Louis' last night as a bachelor and his closest friends had spent months arranging the biggest blow-out of his life. True, Louis liked to party, but he knew that it would be a thing of the past once he tied the knot. Louis and Darren had been saving up to buy a house and Louis was set for a promotion soon, which would mean more time at work and less time hitting the town with his mates. Louis didn't mind, but his friends seemed a little less keen on the idea.

“I can't believe _Louis Tomlinson_ is getting married in two days! What the _fuck_? It blows my mind every time I think about it.”

Liam put his hands to his cheeks and raised his eyebrows, as though unable to contain his disbelief. Louis laughed.

“Believe it, mate.”

Liam had been Louis' best friend since university and had witnessed some of his most debauched life phases. He had been there during a time when Louis drank too much and partied too hard, bringing a string of one-night-stands back to their shared flat on a nightly basis. Liam had been there when Louis had fallen head-over-heels for emotionally unavailable guys, then picked up the pieces when the whole relationship inevitably crashed down around him. Liam had been there when Louis had confessed under the lights of a full-blown rave that he never wanted to get married, that no man would ever tame him.

Liam had also been there when Louis had met Darren, fallen in love with him and proposed under the light of the stars. Well, he hadn't been there for the proposal, but he was the first person Louis had told about it when it happened.

In a rush of enthusiasm, Louis yelled in Liam's face; cheeks flushed with alcohol, eyes screwed up with joy, “In two days time I'm going to be someone's husband! I'm going to be Mister Robinson.”

Liam screwed up his nose and giggled, as though the sound of Louis' soon-to-be surname was highly amusing to him.

“Won't be able to call you Tommo anymore,” Liam said, propping his elbow up on the bar and ushering the barman over. He ordered a round for the entire group, as well as two shots of tequila for him and Louis, “Have to think of a new nickname.”

“You could call me 'Boss',” Louis said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Ha. Ha,” Liam pursed his lips, “don't get too cocky, you haven't got that promotion yet.”

“Only a matter of time, mate _._ ”

Liam and Louis, as well as being best friends, were also co-workers. After university, they'd both applied for a Graduate Scheme in the same company and had both been accepted. The only difference between them was that Louis worked in Finance, whereas Liam worked in the IT department. Even though Louis wouldn't technically be Liam's boss if he got promoted, he liked to wind Liam up by saying so.

“Yeah yeah,” Liam rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face gave away his amusement.

At that moment the barman came over with shots and set them on the table, along with a round of drinks. Liam picked up the tiny glasses and placed one in front of Louis and one in front of himself.

“Here's to you, Mister soon-to-be Robinson,” Liam's lips quirked.

“Bottoms up,” Louis said, picking up the glass and tilting his head towards Liam with a grin.

They both downed their drinks.

At that moment, the rest of Louis' stag party emerged, crowding around them at the bar. A few of them were guys Louis had known since primary school, whilst others were friends from work and people he'd met at various stages of his twenty-five years of life. All of them meant something special to him and he was glad they were all here to celebrate his last night of bachelorhood. The feeling made his chest swell and he couldn't stop the huge smile from overtaking his face as they crowded around him, handing him a pint and drunkenly chanting ' _down it, down it_!'

Louis, never one to step down to a challenge, complied.

After another half an hour in the bar, Liam gathered everyone together and ushered them back into the waiting limo. They headed on to a casino, where Louis spent hours flitting from table to table, not quite knowing how to play most of the games. Liam had tried to explain to him between mouthfuls of beer, but Louis wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he just put his money on the counter and told the host to put it all on black. He lost one hundred pounds. Fortunately, Liam gained two hundred and decided to treat them all to a 'special surprise'.

“Final stop of the night. Tommo, you ready?” Liam grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at Louis and holding up a bandanna.

Louis let out a loud laugh as Liam leaned forward, sprawling across the limo seats to wrap the material around Louis' eyes. Stan -Louis' best friend since the beginning of time- held Louis down to stop him from moving.

“What's all this about?” Louis crowed, trying to act annoyed but obviously delighted. Every time he tried to take off the bandanna, Stan slapped his hands away.

“It's a surprise,” Liam said, “kind of a spur-of-the-moment trip.”

When the limo came to a stop, all Louis could see was blackness and all he could feel was the sensation of hands on his arms, pushing and cajoling him along the street and through a door.

“Can I take this off now?” Louis asked.

“Not yet,” Liam replied, “soon enough.”

“Are we in BoomBox?” Louis asked, naming their favorite spot during university, “I haven't been here in ages.”

“Nope,” Liam replied.

Around him, Louis could hear throbbing music. He was itching to remove his blindfold, but he knew Liam would be furious if he took it off before he was told.

“OK...” Liam said, and they stopped. “Take it off...now.”

Louis reached up and tugged the fabric away from his face. As soon as he did, his jaw dropped open.

“Oh fuck,” he said, eyes wide, “ _shit_ , Liam, you didn't...”

Neon lights rimmed raised podiums, which were adorned with long poles that extended from floor to ceiling. Bodies writhed around Louis like bee swarms, dancing to the sounds of Top 40 hits, while muscled men in nothing but their underwear slinked around the room, trying to grab the attention of anyone who looked willing to spend a little too much.

Louis turned to face Liam, who looked like a mother who had just brought her fat child to a sweet shop. He looked positively pleased as punch, eyes crinkled up as he watched Louis' reaction. Meanwhile, everyone else in Louis' stag party was in hysterics, drunk and acting like teenagers.

Louis glanced around and noticed a sign above the bar, blazing out in burning crimson: Syndrome.

“I cannot believe you brought me here,” Louis practically screeched in Liam's ear, turning around to drag Liam into a hug, slapping his back.

“Just don't tell Darren, yeah?” Liam winked as he pulled out of Louis' arms, “I know he gets a little jealous.”

Louis chuckled and fanned his fingers through his hair. They all walked up to the lounge area, which was situated on a raised platform and was the only place in the club big enough to accommodate all of Louis' friends. They claimed a long table and a few of them immediately headed to the bar to get drinks. The whole place looked like it belonged in a fire pit. Everything was red and black, sinister, with a thread of seduction weaving through it. The dancers on the podiums were dressed to look like beautiful creatures of the underworld; fallen angels wearing nothing more than s black thong and baby oil. They looked-

“Fuck me,” Louis whispered, captivated as he watched a golden haired man rotate around a pole in one easy movement, “this is _sin_.”

“Enjoying the view?” Zayn asked, smirking and taking a seat beside Louis.

Zayn was another one of Louis' co-workers. They'd bonded on their first day over music and their connection only grew when they were forced to pull multiple all-nighters together in order to meet tight deadlines. There’s a certain connection that can only be made with someone when you're both buried neck-deep in spreadsheets and working tight to a time limit.

“I feel like I'm sitting in Lucifer's living room.”

“I suppose that's the idea,” Zayn said, “you think it lives up to the hype?”

Louis looked down on the crowded dance floor, then up at the podiums where the Go-Go boys were dancing. He turned to Zayn and said,

“I'm not sure,” his lips twisted into a devilish grin, “I think a more thorough investigation is required.”

Zayn laughed and allowed himself to be pulled from his seat towards the dance floor. They passed Liam on the way, who was busy carrying handfuls of drinks back to the rowdy boys at the table. God bless Liam, Louis thought, always trying to make sure everyone else has a good time. Louis waited until Liam had set the drinks down, then dragged him along behind them.

They made their way through the mass of writhing bodies and carved a place for themselves right in the center of the floor. Louis immediately started dancing vigorously, putting his everything into the song. Zayn was a little more reserved with his moves, but he attracted attention without even trying. Liam, on the other hand, took his dancing quite seriously and brought out a lot of technical moves that were both impressive and obnoxious at the same time. Louis raised an eyebrow as Liam completed a little turn and pointed his finger at Louis.

“Nice moves, Payne, you auditioning for Step Up?”

Liam cast him a sour look. “Don't be jealous because you haven't got the moves.”

“I've got the moves,” Louis argued, “in fact, I'm about to move right over there so people don't think we're together.”

Zayn chuckled at that, which only made Liam more petulant.

“Is this your way of telling me to tone it down?” Liam asked.

“You said it, not me,” Louis said, putting his hand on Liam's shoulder to show he was only messing with him.

“No it's OK, wouldn't want to steal your thunder on your stag night,” Liam said, “which we all know I would and _could,_ so be grateful.”

“Oh I am.”

The volume of the music made it impossible for them to keep talking, so they just lost themselves, swaying among the bodies in the crowd. Twenty minutes passed and Louis felt himself being tapped on the shoulder by an insistent hand. He turned his head and found himself face-to-face with Stan, who was grinning maniacally, face flushed with alcohol and sweat.

“There's a show starting on the main stage,” Stan shouted over the thump of the music. “We have to see this guy, apparently.”

“Who told you that?” Louis asked.

“The bar guy,” Stan said, handing Louis a bottle of Budweiser, “got you this, by the way. Drink up, lad.”

Louis grabbed the bottle and took a swig, feeling the alcohol mix with the copious amounts already in his system. He felt dazed, close to the edge and he knew if he drank any more he'd fall over into the abyss. Still, the night was young and he didn't want to stop yet.

Louis felt hands on his arms, pushing him towards the main stage, which had transformed from a dark shadow in the middle of the room into a luminous beacon of light. The background was illuminated by glowing, red lights, which made the pole in the middle of the stage look like a black staff. A silhouette. Everything in this place felt like a shadow, mystic and unreal, liable to disappear at any moment. The performers were ghosts.

The lights dimmed and the crowd went silent, all eyes riveted on the stage, waiting for the star of the night. Louis felt a fizz of excitement curl through his bones as they waited.

Silence.

A filter of smoke began to line the floor of the stage. When the lights rose again, they revealed the dark outline of a man standing in the middle, hand resting on the pole, back turned to the audience.

Slow, soft-rock began to filter through the speakers. It was a David Bowie song, Louis recognised it immediately from old tapes his mother used to play in the car. Dreamy. Ethereal. Feminine. Perfectly suited. The dancer on stage turned to face the audience, each movement precise and calculated, matching the tempo of the music. His body was composed of long limbs, pulled into perfect control, dressed in tight leather trousers that looked ready to burst at the seams under the pressure of strong thighs. A burgundy fur coat was the only thing covering his bare chest.

His lips were bright red.

The dancer wrapped his fingers around the length of the pole and completed two full revolutions in one smooth movement, then stood with his spine against it and let his head fall back to rest against the metal, exposing his neck. Everything was painfully slow, like foreplay, building to a climax. It was like black magic, Louis could feel it working on him, possessing him. He felt hypnotised.

Slowly, the dancer began to walk towards the edge of the stage, closer to the audience, who all reached out to try and touch. The dancer smiled at this, cheeky and dimpled, then slowly began unbuttoning his coat, letting it fall open. The fabric fell over one pale shoulder, then slipped down until it was on the ground, leaving him in only a pair of leather trousers.

“Fuckin' tease,” Zayn whispered in Louis' ear, teeth glinting in the darkness.

“You getting turned on?” Louis asked.

“Been there, done that, not my thing,” Zayn snorted, staring back at the stage, “but he isn't bad on the eyes.”

Louis couldn't disagree.

The dancer fluttered his eyelashes back up and unbuttoned the top of his trousers, smiling as the crowd went ballistic. He unzipped it and let it fall open, exposing a trail of hair running from his navel down to his pubic bone, then turned away from the audience and sat on his knees in front of the pole, arching his back into it, letting the movements pull the leather waistband of his trousers down naturally. He let his hands slip over his body in light movements, just enough to tease, to let the audience imagine in their wildest dreams that they would ever get to touch him in that same way.

When the music ended, the stage was littered with pound notes and coins, but the performer was still almost fully clothed. He pressed his fingers to his puffy, red lips and blew a kiss to the audience, then slinked away.

When the lights came up and Louis fell back into reality, he wondered if what he'd just witnessed had been real or some twisted fantasy.

“Well, that was...something.” Liam said, brown eyes still fixed to the stage.

Zayn gave Liam a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then looked over at Louis, “You need another drink, man?”

“In a minute, just going outside for a smoke,” Louis said, pulling out a packet of Marlboro Reds and shaking them, “back soon.”

Louis made his way through the crowd and eventually found the door that led to the smoking area, which was really just an alley. It was empty, despite the fact that the club was packed, but he was happy with that. He pulled out a cigarette and held it to his lips, lighting it up with his Zippo and inhaling deeply.

The silence caused Louis' thoughts to wander, having nothing else to distract him, and inevitably he found himself thinking about his wedding in two days. He let out a long sigh and shook his head, raising his hand to press the heel of his palm to the space between his eyebrows. He closed his eyes tight and blew out his lips, letting them vibrate. _Get it together_ , he told himself, _you and Darren are perfect together_.

It was true. Louis and Darren really were perfect together, everybody told them so. If Louis had a pound coin for every time someone had expressed envy over their relationship or told them how well they suited each other, he would be a very rich man. He told himself that the nerves he was feeling were perfectly normal, but somewhere deep inside he couldn't stop himself from wondering if he was making the right decision. Still, he didn't let himself dwell on it too long, he never did. Instead, he stamped out the rest of his cigarette and went back inside.

When he arrived back at the seating area where the rest of his party was, they all turned to face him with grins on their faces.

“Louis!” A collective chant rose from his friends.

“What's going on?” Louis was immediately suspicious, “Should I be afraid?”

“Definitely,” Zayn said.

“Of course not, old buddy, old pal,” Stan walked over to Louis and circled an arm around his neck, urging him into a soft seat. Everyone else stood up and gathered around him, “We're just getting you ready for the grand finale!”

“The- what?” Louis' eyes darted around the dark seating area.

“Relax, Lou, you can thank me later,” Stan said, “consider it a wedding present. And a Christmas present, too, because it was fucking expensive.”

At that moment it became crystal clear exactly what they had planned. The whole world seemed to slow down as a lithe body ascended the steps into their seating area, clothed in leather trousers, dark hair curling in tendrils down pale collar bones. In the distant recesses of his brain, Louis could hear Liam chortling. Louis didn't know if it was nerves or the alcohol, but he found himself laughing too. He threw his head back.

“You guys are fucking assholes,” he cried, “I can't do this. Can I? I can't!”

Meanwhile, the dancer kept approaching, eyes focused on Louis; dark, glittering green. Captivating, just like the man who owned them. The stripper from the stage show.

“You can and you will,” Stan said in Louis' ear, “I paid a lot for this.”

“Darren is going to kill-”

At that moment, the dancer stopped walking, long legs mere inches from Louis' knees. He stood in front of Louis, peering down and for the first time Louis was able to get a good look at his face. There was something oddly familiar about him and Louis wondered for a brief moment if the guy had been on TV before. He definitely recognised that face. They stared at each other for a long moment. Around them, the rest of Louis' stag party began mumbling amongst themselves, confused as to why the stripper wasn't doing anything.

“What's going on?” Louis heard Liam mutter.

“No idea,” Zayn replied.

Louis ignored them, eyes scanning over pale skin and glassy eyes, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. Then, all of a sudden, it clicked. Louis' heart stopped and his lips parted in shock.

It couldn't be...

“Harry?” Louis asked, tentatively, as though not completely convinced. He stood up from his seat, “Is it you?”

Louis didn't even need to ask, because it was abundantly clear that the man in front of him was definitely Harry Styles. Now that he'd seen it, he couldn't not see it.

“You _know_ him?” Stan asked, eyes wide as he glanced between Louis and Harry.

Louis cleared his throat and closed his mouth, trying to stop himself from looking so shocked. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very self conscious. Luckily, he didn't have to speak, because at that moment Harry opened his mouth and said,

“We grew up on the same street,” he smiled slightly at the memory, “before Louis moved away to-”

“Doncaster,” Louis supplied, “fuck, _Harry,_ you look so...”

Louis couldn't exactly finish that sentence, but his wandering eyes told more than his lips could. Louis just couldn't equate this tall, willowy body with the same chubby little boy who used to burp the alphabet for fifteen-year-old Louis' amusement.

“Different?” Harry smiled.

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, even though that wasn't exactly the word he was looking for, “very different.”

 _Yet still the same, somehow_ .

“You too.”

They stood in silence, staring at each other. All of a sudden, Louis became acutely aware of the fact that Harry had been paid to give him a lap dance. All around them, Louis' friends watched with morbid fascination and Louis could see Stan twiddling his fingers, as though unsure whether his devious plan had been such a good idea after all.

Harry cleared his throat, “Right, well, I suppose I should-”

“Oh, no, seriously, you don't have to-”

“It's OK,” Harry grinned and even though the expression had no right to do so, it made Louis' stomach squirm, “seriously, I do this all the time. It'll be nostalgic, in a way.”

Louis didn't think that nostalgic was the right word to describe it, but he didn't want to make things awkward by refusing, so he agreed. However, in the second that it took for Louis to gather his thoughts, Harry had switched back into his stripper persona, stepping forward and pressing one hand to Louis' chest, forcing him back down into his seat.

This seemed to signal to the rest of his party that everything was all right and so a loud cheer rang out as Harry rolled his hips to the beat of a new song playing over the sound system. Luckily, the music was fast, designed to entertain rather than seduce.

Louis had to sit on his hands to stop himself from touching when Harry turned to sit on his lap, which was difficult considering the fact that Harry was all over him. Louis felt a warm puff of air on his neck and it took him a moment to realise that it was the sensation of Harry's laughter against his skin.

“Having a good time?”

Louis really didn't know how to answer that. Didn't know if he could, considering the circumstances.

“Yeah, absolutely amazing,” Louis said, clearing his throat, “you're -ah- you're really good at this.”

Another puff of air on his neck, then Harry turned until he was straddling Louis' thighs, face-to-face. He slid his hands back through his hair and smiled, cheeks dimpling. He looked shy, but not uncomfortable, which Louis was grateful for. He wasn't sure how anyone could make such an awkward situation seem so...easy.

“Thanks,” he replied, “I've been doing it for a while, so that's good to know.”

“You can definitely pull in a crowd,” Louis said, trying to keep his mind from focusing on Harry's flexed thigh muscles resting on his own, “do you mind if I ask how you started doing, uh...what you're doing?”

Harry placed his hands on Louis shoulders and threw his head back, laughing,

“Well I started out as a dancer,” Harry said, “but it doesn't exactly pay the bills. I have university loans to pay and I get more in one night here than I would working in a bar. It just made sense.”

Harry reached one hand down into the waistband of his trousers and pulled out a soft, silk scarf, “Besides, like you said,” he twisted each end of the scarf around his hands and placed it behind Louis' neck, gently tugging him closer, “I'm good at it.”

Louis' breath felt like it had been punched from his lungs.

“How about you?” Harry asked, releasing one end of the scarf and letting it drag around the back of Louis' neck, down his chest, “What are you doing now? Astronaut? Pretty sure that was your dream job when I knew you.”

“Not quite,” Louis said, laughing at the memory, “my dreams have become a little smaller since then. I work for an advertising company now.”

“Sexy,” Harry said, playfully sarcastic.

“It's very sexy, actually,” Louis said, a little indignantly, “sex sells, Harry, in case you hadn't heard.”

“Hm, news to me.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking down to where their bodies were touching and Louis felt his cheeks burn.

“So, what brings you here tonight?” Harry asked, standing up and setting his hands on Louis' knees, pulling them gently apart.

Louis found it difficult to put his thoughts into any sort of order.

“It's-” Louis' breath hitched as Harry dropped to his knees between Louis' legs and turned around, “It's my-”

“Birthday?”

“No. I'm getting married.”

Harry turned his head, peeking at Louis from under long lashes. Their gazes held steady for a moment, until finally Harry broke it and said,

“Oh. Congratulations,” he stood up, “who is the lucky person?”

“His name's Darren.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Four years.”

“Well,” Harry said, standing up and placing his hands on his hips as the music came to an end, “hope everything goes well for you two.”

Harry's body was slick with sweat, plush and red, breaths labored with exertion. Everything about him was made to tempt. Louis immediately stood up from his seat and stepped towards him, ignoring all his friends who were hollering for his attention.

“Hey,” Louis said, leaning in close to Harry's ear and lightly touching his elbow, “thanks for not making that awkward. It's kind of a crazy situation, I never expected to see you here.”

“Don't mention it,” Harry said, glancing down at Louis' hand on his elbow. Louis immediately pulled it away. He wasn't sure how far the 'no touching' rules applied in this type of situation. “Seriously, it was no big deal.”

“If you insist,” Louis said, a shy smile fleeting over his lips.

Harry made Louis nervous. Uncomfortably so. Looking at him, Louis felt like he was fifteen years old again. Both of them seemed painfully aware of the thread of unresolved tension hanging between them.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your night,” Harry said, stepping away, “and congratulations.”

Harry was about to turn and leave, when Louis heard himself say,

“We should catch up sometime,” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, “I want to know what's going on with you. You know, apart from all this.”

Louis made a vague gesture around the club. Harry raised an eyebrow,

“You would?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Harry looked at him for a long moment, then smiled.

“Sure. I'd like that.”

“Great. I'll give you my number.”

Louis was about to find a napkin and borrow a pen, when suddenly a card flashed in his face. Louis plucked the card from Harry's fingers and glanced down.

_Harry Styles_

_Freelance Photographer_

The card listed his rates and a contact number.

“Photography?” Louis raised an eyebrow.

“It's a hobby.”

“Looks awfully professional to be a hobby.”

Harry shrugged, “Dance is my profession. Photography is just a side thing. Sometimes, when I'm not performing, the dancers let me take pictures of them.”

“Interesting.” Louis put the card in his pocket.

Harry smiled, “It was good to see you, Louis.”

Louis exhaled softly and smiled,

“Yeah. You too.”

With that, Harry turned and disappeared into the throng of bodies.

When Louis returned to his group, everyone was getting ready to leave. Liam was standing at the side, watching Louis with undisguised suspicion.

“What was all that about?” He asked, tilting his head in the direction Harry had just left, “You picking up strippers?”

“Of course not,” Louis scoffed, “he's a friend. _Was_ a friend.”

“I can't believe he still gave you a lap dance even though he knew you,” Zayn shook his head, “wasn't it awkward?”

Louis gave a little half-shrug, not committing to an answer, “I suppose. I mean, it's not every day I get seduced by my dorky childhood friend, is it?”

A dull ache settled in Louis' chest at referring to Harry as 'dorky'. He thought of it as some sort of strange betrayal to thirteen-year-old Harry, who would have been devastated if Louis had called him 'dorky'. Still, Louis needed to say something, anything to hide just how much the encounter had affected him.

“ _Seduced_ , eh?” Liam wiggled his eyebrows.

“You know what I mean,” Louis rolled his eyes, “the guy was rubbing his ass against my crotch, for Christ's sake, what else would you call it?”

Liam laughed, “I know what you mean, don't get defensive.”

“I'm not,” Louis made a conscious effort to lighten his tone, “besides, it's his job, right?”

“Right,” Liam said, then peered up at Louis with brown eyes, “did you get his number or something? I saw him handing you a card.”

“I said we should catch up,” Louis shrugged, grabbing his coat from the seat, “I haven't seen him in so long. God, I can't believe that was Harry.”

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Zayn asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Just-” Louis shook his head, unable to express himself, “just, if you'd known Harry when I knew him, he's the last person you'd expect to grow up and be a- it's just not how I remember him at all.”

“What was he like?” Liam asked, interest piqued.

“Different,” Louis said, “so different.”

He made it sound like it was a bad thing. Maybe it was better that way.

“Well, I guess he's not your 'dorky childhood friend' anymore. He grew up. It happens,” Zayn said.

“Exactly,” Liam nodded in agreement, then turned to Louis, “besides, I bet if you asked him, you're probably the last person he'd expect to grow up and someone would want to marry!”

Louis threw himself at Liam and they all burst into laughter, tension dissolved.

They all gathered together and made their way out of the club, stumbling into the limo. They sang obnoxious songs and ragged on Louis about the stripper he'd picked up.

“You're a bad man, Tommo!” Ed, one of Louis' friends from high school, said, “getting the stripper's number.”

“He's not just a stripper,” Louis said, “I told you, we go way back.”

“Sure you do,” Ed gave an over-exaggerated wink. Louis wanted to punch him, but he was too drunk, so he just laughed.

“Hey, stop ragging on Louis, he can't help it that the stripper was his childhood boyfriend,” Zayn said, making a valiant attempt to defend Louis' honor.

“He wasn't my boyfriend,” Louis said, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “we were just friends. We used to trade pocket money for Pokemon cards, for God's sake, this is not a thing.”

“I don't know, Lou,” Stan piped up from where he was sprawled across an entire section of the limo, lips curling into a smile, “the way he was dancing on you didn't look all that friendly to me.”

Louis opened his mouth to protest, but Liam interrupted by adding,

“And that was _after_ he found out who you were.”

“Whatever,” Louis said, “you guys are full of shit. Besides, I'm getting married in two days. I've found my _soul mate,_ so can we please stop talking about some guy I was friends with a million years ago?”

“Sure, sure,” Zayn said, laughing, “we're only teasing you, Lou, take it easy. We know Darren's the only guy for you.”

“You two are perfect for each other,” Stan mumbled, sounding a little nauseous, lips pressed to the fabric of the car seat as he slowly fell asleep.

“If he throws up, I'm not paying the charges,” Liam said, forehead pressed to the window, looking like the alcohol had hit him all at once now that he wasn't expected to organise everyone, “I'm warning you all now.”

“Stan, don't throw up,” Louis called across the car.

Stan grunted in response.

Luckily they managed to drop Stan off home before he threw up, followed by Zayn and Ed and everyone else until it was only Liam and Louis left in the car.

“Want to come back to mine for one final pint before we both die of a hangover tomorrow?” Liam offered.

“Sure.”

They both stepped out of the limo and Louis tried to tip the driver, but Liam batted him away, insisting it was still Louis' night and he shouldn't be expected to pay for anything. Louis, never one to argue, let him.

“Thanks, Liam,” Louis said, walking over Liam's garden until he was standing by the front door of his bungalow.

“No need to thank me, I only gave him a tenner,” Liam said, “no big deal.”

“Not for tipping the driver, _Liam_ , for everything. For organizing tonight,” Louis tilted his head as he watched Liam fumble with his keys before finding the right one and slotting it into the door, “you really are a great friend, you know that?”

Liam looked up at Louis, surprise filling his eyes, then laughed, “Fuck, you really are sloshed, mate. Louis Tomlinson doesn't gush.”

“Tonight I gush,” Louis said.

The door popped open and Louis stumbled inside, shoes sliding over the wooden floor as he walked down the hallway and collapsed on the sofa in Liam's living room. Liam's house was clean and white, like pins on paper, pristinely presented.

“You sure Sophia won't mind me being here?” Louis asked.

“She's visiting her parents,” Liam said, “she's not back until Monday. We're good.”

“Cool.”

Liam disappeared into the kitchen and brought back two bottles of beer, handing one to Louis and sitting down beside him. They held up their bottles and clinked the necks together, then took a swig. Louis felt loose-limbed and relaxed, buzzed with alcohol. It was dangerous for Louis to be this drunk, because he tended to be incredibly honest and before he knew what he was doing, his mouth was opening and-

“Liam?”

The tone of Louis' voice must've warned Liam of something, because he turned his head cautiously, furrowing his brow.

“Yes?”

“Do you think me and Darren are perfect for each other?”

“Oh boy,” Liam set down his drink and faced Louis.

“No, it's not that,” Louis said, shaking his head, brain sloshing around in his skull, “it's just, how do you know if someone is the one for you? How do you _know_? How did you know?”

Liam and Sophia had been on-again off-again for years before tying the knot. They'd been through good times and bad times together, knew everything about each other, but most of all they were best friends. Louis had never really understood that. Darren was his boyfriend, but he wasn't sure if he was his best friend. Louis had always considered Liam to be his best friend. Still does, if he's honest.

“I just knew,” Liam shrugged, “you just know. Do _you_ know?”

“I don't know,” Louis replied, honestly, “I don't think I do know. Is that OK?”

Liam looked at Louis for a long moment, then smiled and put a hand on his shoulder,

“Mate, you're drunk. You're nervous. This is completely normal. I had all these thoughts when I was marrying Sophia. It's normal.”

“Really?” Louis asked.

“Of course,” Liam said, “though don't tell her that, obviously.”

“I won't. I've grown rather fond of you, don't want you to be murdered.”

“Right,” Liam laughed.

“You're sure this is just nerves?”

Louis just wanted reassurance. He wanted someone to tell him he wasn't crazy. The thing is, he did love Darren, but sometimes he wondered if he loved him in the right way. It wasn't movie-love, what they had, it was comfortable and safe and it burned with a warm glow instead of a fire. Darren was the first person Louis had allowed himself to fall in love with and he felt an obligation to that love. As that thought occurred to him, he couldn't help the swell of panic that rose up in his throat as he thought ' _Is that really enough_?'

“I've never been so sure of anything in my life,” Liam smiled, fingers squeezing Louis' shoulder reassuringly before pulling away, “honest.”

Louis smiled at his friend and felt the muscles in his body relax. Liam was right, Darren was perfect for him. Blonde haired and blue eyed, great sense of humor, everything Louis could ever want. Louis was stupid to think otherwise. This was just nerves, like Liam said. It would all be all right.

“Cheers to that,” Louis said, holding up his bottle.

“Cheers,” Liam clinked their glasses together once, then once again, “and cheers to you becoming Mister Louis Robinson.”

Louis rolled his eyes while Liam chuckled, then reached out and twisted his nipple as punishment.

“Ouch!” Liam looked affronted, “You bastard.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Louis smirked in challenge.

Liam surged forward in an attempt to grab Louis, but the smaller man darted up from the sofa and ran away before he could, laughing.

“You are so immature!”

Louis heard Liam's voice call behind him as he ran upstairs. However, despite Liam's protests, he still chased Louis around the house until both of them, exhausted, passed out on the bed.

-*-

Louis peered out at the evening sky from the balcony.

All his friends and family were downstairs, dancing in the ballroom of the hotel where he and Darren had arranged to have their wedding after-party. Louis was currently upstairs in their room, avoiding everyone.

Their suite was plush; decorated in white and red, with petals strewn over the expensive covers of a four-poster bed. There was a jacuzzi in the bathroom and marble tiles and beautiful floors and everything was so perfect Louis could cry. In fact, there was a tear trailing down his cheek as he stood there, looking out at the expanse of the city skyline, set against a blood red sky. He brought his cigarette up to his lips and inhaled deeply, watching the smoke disappear into the cold night air.

The day had been perfect. They'd gotten married in Darren's childhood church while all their friends and family had watched. Their pictures had been taken by one of the most sought after wedding photographers in the industry and they'd stared lovingly into each others eyes as the camera flashed. During the dinner, Darren had stood up and peered down into Louis' eyes with tears in his own, telling him how much he loved him, that he would die for him and that he couldn't be more happy to be marrying his best friend. Louis, during his speech, had stood up and said the same.

When the festivities had started, Louis and Darren's first dance was to _Someone Like You_ and Darren had sang the words softly into Louis' ear as they swayed. They'd been dancing for about an hour when Louis excused himself to go up to their room for a cigarette. Now, there he was, standing outside alone in the cold night air, enjoying the silence.

Louis heard a soft knock on the door of his room and immediately reached up a hand to dry his eyes, afraid whoever it was might see. Louis told himself he was crying because it was an emotional day.

“Who is it?” He asked, trying to loosen the knot in his throat.

“It's me,” Zayn's familiar voice called through the partition, “you died or something? Everyone's asking where you are.”

Louis took a deep breath and walked across the room to open the door. Zayn was standing there in a white shirt and black tie, brown eyes wide with concern.

“Everything good?” He asked, peering into the room, as though expecting to see some sort of disaster as an explanation for Louis' absence, “You're not trying to escape down the balcony, are you?”

Zayn laughed and Louis did too, but it came out like a whine.

“Anyway, they want you downstairs to cut the cake. Ready?”

“Yeah, sure, coming now. Just need to grab my jacket.”

“Cool, I'll see you down there.”

“Great.”

Louis closed the door and turned to grab his jacket from the bed. He put it on and checked himself in the long mirror beside the vanity table. He didn't recognise the man staring back at him. He smiled, mouth stretching until his cheeks dimpled and ached, desperately trying to convince himself that he hadn't just made the biggest mistake of his life.

With one final glance back at the balcony, Louis followed Zayn out of the room and closed the door behind him.

 

 

 

 


End file.
